


Twentythird

by isitandwonder



Series: Sherlock Advent Calendar [23]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, at least kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you think that poking me in the back with your admittedly impressive boner is an acceptable way to start the day, then I must inform you that I deem such behaviour quite rude.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twentythird

When you wake up with a raging hard on in the morning, there are several options as to what to do with it: you can try to ignore it, hoping it may wane eventually. You can take matters in your own hand, so to speak; or you can take a cold shower. Most fun, of course, can be had when you pester your bedmate with it.

On the other hand, if said bedmate is a somnambulistic, self-professed high functioning sociopath, fun might not be what ensues when you try to engage in morning sex.

“John, for god's sake, take your hands off me. You are quite insatiable. If I had known of your tedious inclinations, I'd never have allowed you copulating with me in the first place.”

“Copulating? Jesus, Sherlock, I'm not a stallion.”

“Then stop behaving like one.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“If you think that poking me in the back with your admittedly impressive boner is an acceptable way to start the day, then I must inform you that I deem such behaviour quite rude.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“I wasn't aware of those options.” Sherlock sounds baffled and presumptuous at the same time.

“No? Then let me explain: bad would be if you never wanted said impressive dick inserted in any of your sometimes oh so amenable bodily orifices ever again. Good would be if you'd experience my perhaps slightly clumsy advances inappropriate but nevertheless as teasingly hot.”

Sherlock snorts a dry laugh. “You delude yourself by exaggerating your sexual merits.”

“And with that you mean what, exactly?” Now it's John's turn to sound bewildered and annoyed.

“I had better.”

“Oh, of course. Sherlock _'I'm married to my work'_ Holmes has secretly shagged half of London; that puts my efforts into perspective.”

The petty bickering has suddenly turned into an awkward hostile silence.

“I offended you.” Sherlock finally turns and looks at John.

“Honestly, Sherlock, 'I had better' is a massive turn-off.”

“But it's true.” Sherlock protests.

John rolls his eyes and starts to get up. “Ok, you now what? I'll take a shower. A very prolonged and _very cold_ one!”

But Sherlock grabs John's wrist as he swings his bare legs out of bed.

“Does it matter?” He asks, slightly perturbed.

“What? That you had others? No, I'm actually quite glad to hear that. But that you rate them better then me? Yes, that matters, because it hurts.”

Sherlock is silent but doesn't let go of John's arm. It takes a moment - in which he licks his lips - before he continues: “But I won't want for any of them to be here with me right now. I couldn't even stand most of them.”

John's still not looking at him, just shakes his head. “Even if that's your weird way of apologising towards me, I think you should stop talking right now.”

“No, this seems to be important. You must understand that I just want… _you_ … to be with me. Always. No one else, ever again. I honestly thought you knew that. God, do I have to actually spell it out? This… _thing_ is irksome.” John fondly thinks that only Sherlock Holmes manages to sound offended by the utter stupidity of his audience when declaring his affection.

“But sometimes worth the while, don't you think.”

“Well, yes, sometimes.” Sherlock concedes peevishly, shrugging.

“God, you crazy bugger, come here.” With that, John is all over Sherlock and this time he's neither scolded nor pushed away but rather freely accepted, at least by Sherlock's standards - which encompass the odd elbow tackle, giggling between passionate kisses and the exclamation of “Seriously, John, what is it with your oral fixation!” when lasciviously trying to insinuate a blow job - but, altogether, it's fine, especially when aforementioned activity ends with a panting and gasping consulting detective fisting the sheets while coming down John's throat.


End file.
